Big Whopper (4 page)

Destiny’s grandfathers certainly weren’t presidents.

One was a taxi driver.

The other one stayed home and read the newspapers.

“I’ll do your hair,” Destiny’s mother said. “Want me to trim your bangs?”

Destiny thought of her picture on the purple paper.

Purple wasn’t her favorite color anymore.

It was the worst color in the world.

Today she had hated going to school.

All day long something had rolled around in her head.

What was it?

At the end of the day she had remembered.

Oh, no!

Abraham Washington was still on the desk in the art room.

Destiny had told Mitchell all about it on the way to Afternoon Center.

“Wow,” Mitchell said. “You told a whopper!” He bit his nail. He looked at the ceiling.

That was what he did when he was figuring things out.

“Are you sure Abraham Washington wasn’t your greatest-grandfather?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” Destiny said. “My grandfather would have told me. He talks a lot when he’s not reading the newspapers.”

Mitchell bobbed his head up and down.

“Maybe we should try to get the picture back,” he said. “Tear it into a thousand pieces. Put it in the lunchroom basket with the noodles and gravy.”

Destiny nodded.

Mitchell was a good friend. But more than that. He was a thinker.

“We have to be first in the art room,” he said.

They began to run. They skidded down the stairs. They raced along the hall. They passed the not-so-white discovery paper.

No one was in the art room except Terrible Thomas. He was curled up on the teacher’s desk.

And there was the picture underneath Thomas.

“I can breathe again,” Destiny said.

“Watch out for Thomas,” Mitchell said. “He’s a scratcher.”

Destiny reached out carefully. She gave Thomas a tiny pat. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said.

Thomas closed his eyes.

Slowly, Destiny pulled the drawing out from under Thomas. Very slowly.

Mitchell looked at it. He began to laugh. “Didn’t President Washington have white hair? Kind of curly?”

“You’re right!” Destiny put her hand up to her mouth. “Wait a minute. Wasn’t his name George?”

Mitchell opened his eyes wide. “Abraham was someone else. Abraham Lincoln.”

“He was the one with the black beard,” Destiny said.

This was getting worse and worse.

It was a whole mixed-up picture.

One huge whopper.

Destiny was ready to rip it to shreds.

But the door opened.

It was Mrs. Farelli.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked.

“I just came to get my drawing,” Destiny said.

“Humpf,” said Mrs. Farelli. “Wait until Ms. Katz gets here for that.”

Destiny’s mouth went dry. “I just—”

“It’s snack time,” said Mrs. Farelli. “You’d better hurry. There might not be anything left.”

Destiny could hear the noise in the hall. Everyone was running back and forth.

She put her drawing back on the desk.

Mrs. Farelli shooed Terrible Thomas out the door. Then she waited until Destiny and Mitchell went into the hall.

They walked slowly.

Lots of people were writing discoveries.

“Look at mine,” Habib said.

“Neat,” Mitchell said.

Destiny nodded. “That’s really good, Habib.”

“You look sad,” Habib told her.

He was right. She was thinking about Ms. Katz.

Ms. Katz with her plain brown hair and no-polish nails.

Ms. Katz, who said
lovely
every two minutes.

Ms. Katz, who would see her Abraham Washington drawing.

She’d know Destiny had told a whopper.

How disappointed she’d be.

CHAPTER 6
STILL WEDNESDAY

“L
et’s stop in the lunchroom for snack,” Mitchell said. “Then I have to go to Homework Help.”

Destiny nodded. But she was never going to eat again.

The lunch lady was standing up in front. Destiny wished she could tell her what had gone wrong. But she couldn’t do that, either.

Bags of dried pineapple were stacked up on the lunch tables.

No one wanted to try dried pineapple. No one but Destiny.

“Eeew,” Gina said. “Disgusting.”

Destiny looked at the lunch lady.

The lunch lady looked a little sad.

Did grown-ups feel sad, too?

Destiny shook her head at Gina. “The lunch lady tries to give us healthy snacks,” she said.

Gina put her nose up close to Destiny. “Then why don’t you take one?”

Destiny made herself take a bag of dried pineapple. She tried to find a teensy piece inside.

She put it in her mouth.

She was too sad to swallow.

She chewed a little. A surprise! The pineapple tasted sweet.

“It’s good,” she said.

“That’s my girl,” said the lunchroom lady.

Destiny took another piece. She closed her eyes.

It made her feel better.

Then Sumiko and Mitchell took a bag.

“Ii,”
Sumiko said. “That’s ‘nice’ in Japanese.”

“We have to try things at the Afternoon Center,” Destiny said. She didn’t exactly say it to Gina. She said it to the air.

She wanted to be a good Afternoon Center person … even if they put her out for telling whoppers.

Everyone was leaving the lunchroom now.

Maybe she could still be first in the art room.

“Hurry,” Mitchell whispered.

Destiny knew he was thinking the same thing. She began to slide out of the lunchroom.

But the lunchroom lady clapped her hands. “Destiny. Destiny Washington.”

Destiny walked back slowly. “Did you call me?”

Everyone else was gone now.

The lunchroom lady patted a seat at a table. “Sit a minute,” she said.

Destiny sat down. She thought about taking another bag of pineapple.

She didn’t, though.

She was ready to cry. She’d never get Abraham Washington back before Ms. Katz saw it.

“I like your bangs,” the lunch lady said.

“Thank you,” Destiny said.

“It was very nice of you to try the pineapple,” the lunch lady said.

“Thank you,” Destiny whispered.

“So what’s wrong? You can tell me.”

Destiny looked toward the doorway. Mitchell was waiting for her.

So was Sumiko. She was doing a handstand.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Destiny’s eyes burned.

The lunch lady was smiling a little. “When something is wrong, I cook up some turnips.”

“Do you like turnips?” Destiny asked.

“Of course not,” the lunch lady said. “I make
myself take a bite. I tell myself, ‘Violet, things could be worse. You could have to eat turnips every day.’”

Destiny had to smile. She’d just learned the lunch lady’s name. Violet. Neat.

“Good,” said the lunch lady. “Now tell me what’s the matter.”

Destiny couldn’t tell about the picture.

What else was wrong?

“I haven’t discovered anything,” she said.

That was true.

“I’ll be the only one with a blank space on the wall.”

That was true, too.

Now she felt even worse.

“That’s not so terrible,” the lunch lady said. “You discovered you like dried pineapple.”

“That’s not a great discovery,” Destiny said.

The lunch lady laughed. “Come over to the windowsill.”

They looked at the row of pots together.

“Do you see that?” the lunch lady said.

All Destiny saw was brown dirt.

The lunch lady pointed.

A tiny green shoot was poking up its head.

“See,” said the lunch lady. “You’ve discovered a new plant.”

“I guess,” said Destiny.

“Just keep your eyes open,” the lunchroom lady said. “You’ll make a ton of discoveries.”

Destiny nodded. If only she could believe her!

She ran to catch up with Mitchell and Sumiko.

CHAPTER 7
STILL WEDNESDAY